Don't Pick Me

CHAPTER III

True to her word, Mrs. Abercrombie Brendon presented Jerry and his idea to her committee, and they appointed him Minister Extraordinary to the whole affair. He was to design the setting for the pageant and such costumes as he had time to do. He was to arrange and direct the tableaux.

There was a slight hitch in affairs, when Jerry presented his terms, but he was prepared for that. Mrs. Brendon sounded him on a reduction, but he stood firm, assuring her that he must be free to put all his heart and brain at their service. This was quite impossible unless he gave up all other work for the time being. If that was not entirely satisfactory to them, he would gladly withdraw. The interruption to his work was of considerable moment. Mrs. Brendon carried this answer back to the committee and they confirmed the amount, complaining bitterly.

Jerry was prepared for this incident. He also knew that in the end they would pay just what he asked—would pay anything to get what they wanted; and the particular thing they wanted now was a new way to dress up. None of them thought it was funny for the seemly old prophets to disport themselves at a ball, not until the newspaper wits began to point it out. But it never pays for the metropolitan dailies to be their funniest at the expense of the class which gives fifty-thousand-dollar balls, so the affair got under way with much advertising, and few jibes.

Jerry, with his first check safely deposited in the bank, went merrily to work at his designs. He spent his days in the library, studying costumes, looking over old pictures, working at effects. He decided upon the throne room of King Herod as the big general background of the show. He planned a wide staircase at the back, where, on a platform like a landing, the tableaux should appear, after which the actors should descend to bend the knee to the king and queen.

The plans began to grow, and, artist-like, Jerry hurled himself into his work with abandon. He laboured early and late, until he was tired out, before the real task of rehearsing, readjusting human equations, and such problems had begun.

"Jerry, you goose, you act as if you had been engaged by the Crown Prince to stage the Coronation. This is nothing but ready money to you, why do you wear yourself out on it?" protested Bobs.

"I want it to be the biggest thing of the kind that New York ever had. I'm interested in it. When it's over I will go off somewhere and rest. Don't you worry."

"Mrs. Abercrombie Brendon will take you for a cruise on her yacht, maybe," she said bitterly.

"Well, why not? I don't hate her yacht. What's the trouble, Bobsie? Are you jealous of these ladies of the rich and great?"

She blazed out at him.

"Yes, I am. What right have they to come down here, take you away from your work, pick your brains, wear you out, and then drop you when they've taken what they want? I hate them all!"

"Steady, old girl," said Jerry, putting a hand on each of her shoulders, and making her look at him. "For a penny, I'd shake you, Bobs! What do you think I am, a mechanical doll? Don't I have anything to say about what they do to me?"

"You think you do, but you don't."

"Don't you worry about me," he said shortly, and she knew he was annoyed. He went back to work on a costume drawing, and Bobs went out without another word.

"Damn," said Jerry softly. He worked rapidly for an hour. Then a movement in his bedroom startled him.

"Who's that?" he called.

Jane Judd came into view, a sock pulled over one hand.

"Did you speak?"

"Oh, Jane Judd, I forgot you were there."